Riddle Me This
by electricsymphony
Summary: Voldemort is my past, present and future.' We know little about Tom Riddle's past, but maybe, to see the key to his destruction, one must look at where it all began.


_Riddle Me This_

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Every date, birthday, age and name of canon characters has been checked with the HP-Lexicon.****

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December 30****th****, 1926**

**11:49 p.m.**

**London, England**

Merope Gaunt needed a place to stay. She was sick and ill, and she knew it. She was coughing up a storm and there was no way that she could find a place to rest before she crumbled and broke down. She knew in the depths of her heart that she could not leave the baby that was about to come out of her. She knew that he could never have a good life, not while he was with her. She noticed a large sign that read: Saint Mary's Orphanage above her head and she sighed. She trudged down Park Street in London and her bare feet hit the snow pulling red hot blood away from the cut in her foot. Suddenly, she fell to the ground with no more than a whimper, a small cry for help in the middle of the bare and empty street. All that was heard of her cry after that was a very small cry, but someone had heard. A boy was traveling down the road with a blonde four-year old girl by his side, grinning as she devoured the ice cream the older boy had gotten for her. The dark-haired twelve year old quickly rushed over to her side and pushed some of the snow away from her body.

"Miss, can you hear me?"

She did not respond even when she opened her mouth to try. The younger girl gasped in surprise but she didn't know what was going on. She tugged on her pigtail and let the older boy silence her. "Kate, go up and get Mrs. Cole!" The younger girl, only being four, didn't understand a word of what the older boy had said. As the older boy realized this, he quickly swallowed and got up. "Kate, stay here! Do not move!" This command, the younger girl understood. She stayed on the park bench trying to will someone to come down the street. In an amazing speed of only three minutes the black-haired boy was back, this time with an older woman who kneeled beside her.

"Can you hear me, Miss? Please nod your head if you can hear me," the older woman instructed and all the while the boy was looking as though he was ashamed of what had happened. Merope opened her mouth and they both looked as if Christmas had come early, but she promptly shut it again; this time it wasn't because she couldn't speak, but because she didn't know if she could trust these people. She was surprised to hear her rusty voice come out as she hadn't used it in quite some time,

"I'm have--" she said, her voice wavering, "my baby…"

"Oh god damn," the aforementioned Mrs. Cole sighed. "Oliver, help this woman up and back to the orphanage and get her to the Hospital Wing immediately, do not waste any time. I'll take Katilin back to her room with me," she stated, her booming voice startling the young boy. He however, did what he was told. The woman on his shoulder was quite heavy due to the fact that she was about to have a baby, but that didn't make Oliver Draper any less determined. His eyes shown with a gleam of happiness as he set the woman on the bed that he had trudged her up to. The smile on his face vanished when the Nurse told him to go back to his room. The spark of happiness in his eye shown away as she said such and Mrs. Cole trudged into the room.

"Thank you, Oliver. You may go now…"

"Mrs. Cole, can't I be…"

"That was an order, Mr. Draper, not my input." That was the end of it. When Mrs. Cole told you that she wanted you somewhere, you did it with no question asked, but Oliver Draper wasn't any less determined than he was a few minutes ago. "Are you going to go or will I have to hand out a punishment? I suspect you know that we will do our very best to help this young woman with her… problem." Well, that was what Mrs. Cole had said, but Oliver knew it didn't mean that it was going to be true. Mrs. Cole was rude, obnoxious and an overall nasty woman. She did things for herself and she used her own twisted sick sense of humor to get her spirits up on rainy dreary days like the ones they had been having lately. Oliver looked up, the sweat from carrying the woman freshly dripping off his face. Merope turned to the left and felt her blood spit out of a cut on her left shoulder.

"The boy can—I want him to stay…"

Mrs. Cole looked as though she had swallowed a gigantic fruit. She looked to Oliver to the nineteen year old woman on the stretcher bed and sighed. She had to put on a nice face for everyone or people would realize how horrible she really was. Oliver shuddered at the mere thought of the authorities would do when they found out how terrible a place to grow up this really was. Oliver had lived here for all his life: his mother was a teacher here. His father had died the day after his younger four year old sister Kate was born and their mother had died two weeks after. They had lived in the orphanage care under Mrs. Cole since the accident with their parents occurred. In this time, Oliver observed how horrified these children were to be in this setting. This woman seemed to notice nothing however, as she was in labor and couldn't hear past her own screams.

"Very well, Oliver, you may stay." The venom in her voice was enough to fill an entire snake, but Oliver didn't reply. He was staring at the woman in front of him, her loud groans filling the room. The nurse was putting her feet in a small bucket of water on the other side of the room and Mrs. Cole looked simply murderous at him as though she was forcing him out of the room with her mind. The woman gave another scream and the Nurse ran to her side. Mrs. Cole did not even blink as the woman gave another groan. Oliver cautiously stepped forward but Mrs. Cole snapped his hand with the ruler in her right hand. "Oh, you will do right to stay right where you are, boy."

He didn't twitch at all after that. The only movement he could will himself to do was to breathe and to blink, everything else was shut off. Mrs. Cole never even snapped her head in his direction, so she wouldn't notice if he budged slightly. However, he just stood there, solid as a rock as he stared into the cold eyes of the woman on the couch. Twenty minutes more and he glanced at the clock on the wall, finally noticing that it was no longer Saturday. It was Sunday at 1: 29 a.m. and he hadn't moved in one hour. He felt his leg go numb as he stood on it, hunched over and watching as Mrs. Cole talked to the woman.

"Miss, we can't do anything for you, we're sorry…"

"Yes, I figured as much."

The woman didn't seem at all fazed that she was about to die. Oliver had a feeling that she knew from the start that she was doomed, but he could barely think of what he would do if he knew he was going to die ahead of time. It shook him lightly to even think about it, but Merope had no regret as her face shown a bright smile as she looked at the bundle of blankets in her hands. "This is an… orphanage, isn't it?" She asked, the wound on her arm pouring out blood into the bucket next to her. He saw Mrs. Cole nod, but he knew that Mrs. Cole was terrified at what she knew that the woman would ask her. Mrs. Cole had no room for more children, but Oliver knew she would take the boy anyway.

"Yes, ma'am, it is."

"I want you to take my boy then. His name…" she said, stopping to cough slightly, "His name is Tom… Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom after his father… his father who left after… after…" she said, seeming to not be able to hack out the words anymore, "Marvolo," she pressed on and Oliver felt a soft spot for the young girl who was dying in front of his eyes and he could nothing about, "after his grandfather… my father… and Riddle. Riddle is his last name. The name that won't… won't remind him of who he is. He doesn't have to know." She paused for a second before adding, "I hope he looks like his pa."

The woman gave a small smile before she slumped into the bed, dead. Her eyes were closed and once Oliver had gotten the courage to look away, he bit away the tear that he knew was coming. Mrs. Cole stood there, stone faced and the Nurse looked like she had just thrown up. They both stared at each other for the longest time and Oliver bit his lip so hard that blood came pouring from it. Mrs. Cole, baby Tom in hand, marched to the door and opened it. She thrust the boy into Oliver's arms and said with a retreating glance,

"Bring him up to the baby center and tell Mr. Rogers who he is. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."

Oliver sent her a murderous look before trudging up to the top tower. He patted the babies head out of nerves and the baby looked back up at him and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of a tear.

**

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Eleven Years Later**

**August 12****th****, 1938**

**Saint Mary's Orphanage**

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Tom stared out the window with a pleading expression. He knew that Oliver was coming around to stop by sometime today, but he could hardly contain what he knew was bursting to come out. Ever since Oliver had left when he was eighteen four years ago, Tom had missed him sorely. After Kate had left that same year he felt as though someone had ripped his heart out. Someone had come and adopted her, and Tom highly doubted she even remembered him. Oliver hadn't seen her in three years and Tom knew it was hurting Oliver more than it was hurting Tom, but Oliver was older and he knew how to keep his emotions in check. He heard his roommate, Eric Whalley call for him. He sent the boy a horrid look before trudging past the leaves in his worn out shoes.

Standing in the archway to Classroom Five was twenty-two year old Oliver Draper, the one person he had been waiting for. Tom walked briskly to the entrance way and stood there, both of them facing each other. Oliver sat down on the bench next to Tom but Tom squirmed away. Oliver frowned and looked over to him,

"You are way too serious for an eleven year old, you know that?"

Tom couldn't help but smile. "How you've been, Tom? How have you been holding up here without--" he pressed on, but failed to continue. Tom knew that Oliver was referring to Kate; he didn't need to say it. Kate was the only one in the orphanage who really knew Tom instead of just saying they grew up and attended classes with him. Oliver was always with someone else or away at his boarding school and they would confide in each other until he returned, at least until four years ago when she left. Oliver knew had she still been here she would be fifteen. Even though she was three and a half years older than him, he had never connected with any of the others at the orphanage. All the other boys and girls thought he was downright terrifying.

"I'll be here until Wednesday, so come up and see me. I'll be staying in the Geography Quarters next to Martin, alright?" Tom looked crestfallen, but agreed anyway as he trudged back to the dorm. Before he could get one foot away from Oliver however, he heard him call him back, "Tom? I have an interview tomorrow so I may not be here for most of the day, but I'll be back at six o' clock tomorrow, alright?"

Tom looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "What are you interviewing for?"

"I got a job proposition a couple of days ago from the Headmaster of my school as a—History teacher. I wanted to get in right away because I'm a little tight with money and my job right now isn't really rolling up any pounds lately…" he explained and Tom looked disappointed, anxious and borderline-angry at the same time while trying to show some happiness in Oliver's new endeavor. He couldn't help but to think that Oliver would go and disappear just as Kate had…

"When… when are you coming back?"

"Eh… let's not talk about that just yet, alright Tom? Now, I heard Mrs. Cole was looking for you, so get a move on…"

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Oliver Draper was concerned about Tom. The young little boy had been in quite some state after Kate had left. He didn't quite know what to do, not that Oliver blamed him for it, but he began to become trouble. Oliver couldn't visit every day and Tom had taken to hurting the small boys and girls of the orphanage, or so Mrs. Cole had said, but that didn't account for much. Mrs. Cole was an interesting woman to get to know. Sometimes, if she was in a good mood, she was a very nice woman and she added love and comfort to the orphanage, and other times she was downright nasty. Oliver himself had known her for all twenty-two years of his life and he had yet to solve the mystery that was Mrs. Cole. He knew she and his mother had been close friends before they had opened the orphanage, but it seemed to him like Mrs. Cole was a terrible person to friends with. Her mood was constantly changing like the weather.

The only people that her mood didn't change for were himself and Tom Riddle. For some reason, after that day eleven years ago she had taken a sort of hatred to him that went far beyond first looks. He suspected that she blamed him for not only the death of his mother, but the death of Merope Gaunt that had landed her with Tom Riddle, the troubled boy. He knew that his mother's death had affected Mrs. Cole in several ways and the arrival of Tom Riddle had sent her over the edge in some way or another, but even he had trouble understanding it.

All he did know was that he was scared for Tom Riddle. He knew Tom was a wizard, he had known for quite some time and he wanted to tell Tom all about the wizarding world, but Dumbledore had forbid it. Dumbledore was the smartest wizard around and pure genius; that man never missed a trick. He was currently ninety two years old and he knew more spells and defenses then the whole school put together. He was Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts and the Transfiguration teacher and a shoe in for the Headmaster. The current Headmaster, Dippit, was an annoying, puny, bald man who hated jokes and laughter and fed off of strict rules, proper behavior and paperwork.

Whenever he thought of Dippit he got a good laugh out of thinking what the aged headmaster would think of Saint Mary's Orphanage. As he watched the young wizard leave for his room, he sighed. Dumbledore was upstairs with Mrs. Cole maping out the details about Tom's schooling. He remembered the year that the man had come to talk to him, only a year before Merope Gaunt had given birth to Tom. Clearly, Dumbledore had erased her memory of the meeting and replaced a memory of signing a contract for Oliver to go to a foreign school. It had been the same with Kate, but Oliver would never admit it to Tom. He had seen Kate two weeks ago at Hogwarts, but he didn't have the heart to tell Tom.

Now that he was offered the position as History of Magic teacher he could keep an eye on Tom, but he found himself thinking it was too late for the boy. He sighed, pulled a quill from his knapsack and doodled absentmindedly on his piece of parchment.

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Tom sat up, clearly in hopes of hearing more from the two outside his room. **"Here we are,"** he heard Mrs. Cole state as she opened the hinged door to let the aged man past the hollow oak door that led to his room. The man had a smile on his face that made chills run down Tom's back and he did his best not to be terrified by the man. He swallowed and sighed, maybe he was from the institution. He was probably there to tell him all about some program they were going to take him to. He would bet Mrs. Cole had sent for him to be taken by some creepy old men to a place where they injected poison into him and slowly watched as he curled up in a ball, deathly afraid of needles.

He was getting ahead of himself. When the old man entered, Tom felt his face pale and his whole body freeze. The caring smile on the older man was an unnerving as anything he had ever seen and the sinister smile on Mrs. Cole's face made him even more apprehensive. **"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton—sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you—well, I'll let him do it."** Tom's face matched the dark and hollow walls of the room and the man—Dunderbore was it—was staring at him with curiosity. Tom took a quick note to his appearance as the old man sat down and Mrs. Cole left—he was old, with hair a graying-auburn color and eyes as blue as the sky, twinkling in the light coming from the dimly light candle next to Tom.

"**How do you do, Tom?"** he asked, walking towards him and holding out his hand to shake. Tom looked at the hand, wary, and then shook it. His hand was cold and hard to the touch and it made Tom shiver. Simply the fact that the old man knew his name was enough to make Tom Riddle slightly apprehensive. There was never anyone who wanted to him. Sure, the other boys and girls had visitors—lost family members and such—but never Tom. Was this man related to him?

"**I am Professor Dumbledore."**

The name made Tom feel anxious. **"'Professor?'"** he asked, a small tingle down his back, **"Is that like a doctor? What are you here for? Did **_**she**_** get you in to have a look at me?"** The clear way that he said 'her' made the Professor sure that little Tom Riddle was not and never was happy with Mrs. Cole. He looked hesitantly at Dumbledore's odd smile but shut his mouth.

"**No, no,"** he added smiling once again. Tom just turned back to him, all of the anger from today jumping out.

"**I don't believe you! She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"**

Dumbledore noticeably flinched at the last few words that came out of Tom's mouth, but neither of them moved a single inch. Tom looked up from his seat and asked in an incredulous voice, **"Who are you?"** When he looked back at the grey-haired man, he was smiling. Tom shifted in his seat once again.

"**I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school—your new school, if you would like to come."**

"**You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor', yes of course—well, I'm not going see? That old cat the one who should be the in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"**

"**I am not from the asylum,"** he heard Dumbledore say in a calming voice, **"I am a teacher and, if you will sit calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you rather not come to school, nobody will force you--"**

"**I'd like to see them try…"** he muttered. All the anger that had seethed out of him in the past few days had come out to this 'Dumbledore' and we not let him get the better of Tom Riddle. Why? No one got the better of Tom Riddle. If this man was trying to get him to the asylum… well, it wasn't going to happen.

"**Hogwarts,"** he pressed on, **"is a school for people with special abilities--"**

"**I'm not mad!" **Tom shouted, anger present in his dark, cold eyes.

"**I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."**

"**Magic?"** he repeated, finally finding his voice.

"**That's right,"** he added.

"**It's… magic, what I can do?" **Tom looked up at him hopefully, a flicker of hope in his body. His whole body was pressed up against the wardrobe and he could feel himself breathing. Dumbledore had stopped talking and was looking at him intently. Tom gave another shiver and Dumbledore did not move, still watching him as though he was an animal in the zoo.

"**What is it you can do?"**

"**All sorts,"** he said, pressing his teeth against his lip, **"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."**

"**I knew I was different,"** he began to whisper, forgetting Dumbledore was there, **"I knew I was special. Always… I knew there was something."**

"**Well, you are quite right,"** answered Dumbledore who looked as though he were trembling. **"You are a wizard."**

"**Are you a wizard too?" **Tom knew at once that he was, but he kept his tongue in his mouth. He would not have that man have a one up on him. He would not let his emotions show. He didn't want this, nor did he need it.

"**Yes, I am."**

"**Prove it,"** he muttered, seeming more confident than he felt as he stared Dumbledore down with a haughty expression on his face. **"Tell the truth."**

"**If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts--"**

"**Of course I am!" **Tom was beginning to feel anger at the bearded man. Of course he was excepting the place! The man was irritating and always had to state the obvious, but he bit his tongue. He thought he felt some blood squirt out of it but he waited patiently for the man's outburst. However, none came. Tom frowned and Dumbledore answered,

"**Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir'."**

"**I'm sorry sir. I meant—please Professor, could you show me?"**

With a quick glance at Tom, Dumbledore took his wand arm and pointed it at the wardrobe in the corner, a single finger raised. After a moment of staring at Tom, he drew the wand from his back pocket, no longer smiling, and raised it once again towards the wardrobe. Tom was feeling brave and confident at the fact that he forced a man to do his bidding, and at the same time anxious and excited to see what the Professor could do. In a moment, Tom blinked and where the wardrobe once stood, was a pile of ashes, erupting in fire. Tom looked amazed, and once he realized that Dumbledore had burnt all his clothes and possessions, looked murderous. Dumbledore sighed, smiled and with a casual flick of his wand the wardrobe was fully restored, nothing harmed. Tom gaped at him.

"**Where can I get one of them?"** he asked, pointing at Dumbledore's wand.

"**All in good time,"** said Dumbledore, stroking his beard, **"I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe." **Tom looked over, blinked and in surprise, a faint noise could be heard. It grew larger, and with one weary step, he took a step forward. His heart thumping and head exploding, he walked towards the wardrobe, Dumbledore watching him the entire time. **"Open the door," **he instructed.

Tom hesitated, looked at the wardrobe, and opened it. Sitting on the highest shelf sat a small cardboard box that was rattling and moving from side to side of the wardrobe, making a similar noise to the beat in Tom's heart. Dumbledore was watching him with intensity, his stare burning into his cold eyes and he said, **"Take it out"** in the same tone he had instructed to open the door. Tom looked at the box in his hands and swallowed. **"Is there something in that box you ought not to have?" **asked Dumbledore, a small smile emerging.

Tom looked at him with venom, and yet, he was more scared than he appeared. He threw him a look that he could only explain as calculating, but Dumbledore ignored it, noting that Tom was only trying to seem less afraid. Tom shivered when he heard Dumbledore sigh and he replied, **"Yes, I suppose so sir."** Dumbledore had a clear look of amused on his face but he quickly said in the same demanding voice,

"**Open it."**

Tom shivered again, but opened the box. Inside the box, were at least five dozen small objects including yo-yo, a silver thimble and a rusty looking harmonica was among them, all sitting in the small box, tightly wrapped together as if they were forced into the others. Tom's smirk left his face immediately when he saw Dumbledore's amused look. **"You will return them to their owners with your apologies,"** he said calmly and got up, placed his wand in his pocket, and began to stretch after sitting for so long. Tom couldn't think of looking at him again, but he would not show weakness. He stared at him with a cold expression and he pressed on, **"I shall know whether it has been done. And be warmed: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."**

"**Yes sir,"** he said, trying to rid his voice of any emotion he had.

"**At Hogwarts,"** Dumbledore added, "**we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have—inadvertently I'm sure—been using your powers in a way that is neither taught not tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic—yes, there is a Ministry—will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must except that, in entering out world, they abide by our laws." **Dumbledore looked down at him, seeming to ask if he understood. Tom shivered once again.

"**Yes, sir,"** Tom repeated again. He thought for a moment, turned to Dumbledore and added, **"I haven't got any money."**

"**That is easily remedied,"** said Dumbledore, taking a leather money pouch from his coat pocket and beaming. **"There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to but books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell books and so on secondhand, but--"** Dumbledore said, although he broke off at that moment and fell flat. Tom looked at him intrigued.

"**Where do you buy spell books?"**

"**In Diagon Alley,"** he answered. **"I have a list of your books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything--"**

"**You're coming with me?"** Tom asked, simply disgusted. He didn't want the man to go with him, as he would rather go alone. He trusted only a few in this world, and he knew neither of them were wizards/witches. Or, so he thought. Dumbledore looked at him with a retreating glance and replied, **"Certainly, if you…"**

"**I don't need you--"** Tom said, smirking, **"I'm used to doing things on my own."** It was true; he had gotten quite used to doing things on his own ever since Kate had left and Oliver had stopped visiting so much. He doubted that Oliver would believe him if he told him all about this magical world. **"I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley, sir?" **he asked, looking up at the old mentor. He simply frowned at Tom.

"**You will be able to see it, although muggles around you –non magical people that is—will not. Ask for Tom the Barman—easy enough to remember, as he shares your name--"** Dumbledore explained and Tom flinched. He hated it when someone told him they knew another 'Tom'. It irked him to even think about the fact he might be normal, even in name. Dumbledore noticed this and frowned deeper. **"You dislike the name Tom?"**

"**There are a lot of Tom's,"** he muttered.

Then, without even thinking about it, his face determined and hands sweaty, he asked the question that had been on his mind: **"Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me." **Hisface lit up with enjoyment and he was barely thinking about how much emotion he was pouring out as he glanced from Dumbledore to the old rusty candle by his side.

"**I'm afraid I don't know,"** Dumbledore answered.

"**My mother can't have had magic, or she wouldn't have died,"** said Tom, not even listening to Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave a disapproving look, but said nothing as he stroked his beard with thought. **"It must have been him. So –when I've got all my stuff—when do I go to this Hogwarts?"**

"**All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope,"** Dumbledore told him, his smile returning, **"You will leave from King's Cross station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."** Tom nodded, pleased with himself as Dumbledore got to his feet. Tom, remembering something, drew in a breath and told him,

"**I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips—they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"** Tom asked, in hopes of being the only one. He was slightly impressed when Dumbledore answered,

"**It's is unusual,"** he added, **"but not unheard of."**

There was an awkward pause and Dumbledore left the room. **"Good-bye Tom. I'll see you at Hogwarts."**

With that, Tom threw himself onto his bed and thought.

* * *

All the **bold **in the last section belongs to J.K. Rowling and has been copied from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, pgs. 268-275. All the non-bold words in that section I wrote. All the characters, plot and other things you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling.

S.S.M.


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